Tempt the Devil (The Devil of Ponong series #3) (34 page)

When he walked around Levapur it seemed like a bustling,
sprawling town. Now he saw the truth: it was only a tiny cluster of buildings
backed against a cliff. The jungle laid siege to its borders. Swaths of green
through the buildings showed that the jungle had already breached the ring of
civilization and infiltrated deep into the heart of the town. Holding it back
was a constant battle, probably futile.

Beyond
the island, the ocean was deep turquoise. The past few years, he’d tried not to
torture himself with longing glimpses of the open water. Today the pull had
been more urgent than usual. He’d relished the taste of salt on his lips left
by the sea spray as he’d rowed to the fortress. His pulse had beat with the
surge of waves against the breakwater. He was a sea dragon. He wasn’t meant to
live chained to land.

Past the monolith stones jutting out of the Sea of
Erykoli, junks navigated the shipping channels. One of them might be the
Golden Barracuda
. Next time it was in
port, he would swallow his pride, board it, and shake cousin Hadre’s hand. Or
maybe it wouldn’t be here, but he’d find a way to repair that friendship, he
vowed to himself. It was time to stop sulking.

He felt burdens lifting from his soul as he drank in the
view of the vast blue sea. Somewhere beyond where the horizon curved was home.

Unlike the green water of Ponong, the harbor water in
Surrayya was dark gray. Junks flying the chops of the thirteen families
gathered there after returning from months at sea. Their rich cargos had built
the capital city from marshland into a sophisticated metropolis of small
islands connected by canals.

The Zul family compound encompassed almost an entire
island in that network. Only the road connecting the bridges was outside the
walls. That wasn’t the home he was going to. He’d never liked living under his
Grandfather’s unrelenting rule. After several years out of the world of
espionage, he probably wouldn’t be allowed to return to that work anyway. All
male Zuls worked on their fleet of junks for several years, so he might return
to the sea, but he couldn’t call himself a master at any task on board. He
couldn’t think of anywhere he’d be useful.

He wasn’t sure where home was anymore.

“Governor Zul?” LiHoun called out.

Kyam turned around and walked to the bridge where the old
cat man was waiting for him. The Pha River thundered below them, although it
was almost impossible to see the rapids through the mist.

LiHoun handed him a sack to put over his head. The rough
fabric stank faintly of wet dogs. Kyam made a sour face, but he put it on
because it was the only way to get to QuiTai.

LiHoun took his hand and led him across the bridge. They
climbed up a small rise and turned toward the setting sun. For a while, he
heard the engine of one of the funicular lines that ran to the upslope
plantations, but it grew fainter. Only the sound of rushing water and the
jungle remained.

His boots
slid in patches of mud. The path rose and fell and sometimes turned. He’d tried
to count his steps but lost his place.

LiHoun
stopped him. “One little step up.”

Kyam
lifted his foot too far and lurched as he stepped down on what felt like timber
grass.

“This is
narrow. Careful please.”

LiHoun
put his hand on a timber grass railing as thick as his wrist.

“Now
three steps to your right, Governor Zul.”

He knew now he was on a walkway leading to a house.
Zigzagging paths thwarted demons that could only travel in straight lines. When
vines trailed over his shoulders, he guessed they’d passed through a moon gate.
Between that and the stink of the cloth over his face, he suspected he was at
Petrof’s hidden den.

Had Petrof been alive all this time?

“Wait here,” LiHoun said.

He heard something heavy moving.

“She does not like to be disturbed. We draw back the
bridge so that no one can cross it,” LiHoun explained.

The old man took his hands again and led him into
darkness. His boots shuffled across a smooth wood floor. The sounds of the Pha
River suddenly muted.

LiHoun dropped his hands. His footsteps faded.

Kyam was sure she was there, and that they were alone now,
even though he hadn’t heard a door close.

“Can I take this off?” He pulled off the sack before she
answered. He stood in the center of a bare room in a house that wasn’t
Thampurian, but wasn’t Ponongese either.

She sat in a large, ornately carved chair too big for her
petite frame, and yet she looked quite at home in it. A low table sat to the
side of her chair. The large sliding door behind her was closed.

He smelled kur smoke. He turned around and saw a narrow
front doorway. LiHoun squatted outside, under a moon gate covered in flowering
vines. The smoke from a kur curled from his fingers.

Kyam turned back to QuiTai. She wore a kebaya blouse
richly embroidered with Ponongese designs. He’d never seen one that elegant.
The wide hem was gold. Like her blouse, the design was Ponongese, but not like
any other one he’d seen before. The Pha tended to use small repeating geometric
shapes while the Rhi took inspiration from nature, but this wasn’t either of
those. He wondered if hers were a Qui pattern.

He
gestured to her sarong. “I already know you’re the most poisonous thing in this
jungle. No need to warn me.”

“You
always say such sweet things.”

Kyam drew
close to her throne – there was no other word for it – and put his
boot up on the little table. He leaned on his thigh. “I got you out of the
fortress. Time to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“Of course.”

“No games.”

“No games.” Her restless hands traced the chair’s carved lines.

“But first–” he said.

The corner of her mouth curved.

“I have to know. How did you do it?”

“I’m in no mood to be arrested again today, so I’m going
to pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about,” QuiTai said.

He took her hand and turned the palm up. His fingertips
traced the welt left by the sea wasp sting so many months ago. He pressed his
lips to the scar. “I spent all day running around trying to solve a mystery
that didn’t matter. Meanwhile, you were committing an almost perfect murder.
Only you would be clever enough to ask to be arrested before committing the
crime.”

“Flirt.”

“Unless
there’s a secret passage in that dungeon, I swear what you did was impossible.
Oh, I know you flitted in and out of that cell at will, but the shackles on
your wrists and ankles in the torture chamber were real, as you were careful to
point out.”

“They’re
always real in the best tricks.”

“I can see how you could have locked yourself in them,
except…” He held up his hands as if he were on the torture board and looked
from one wrist to the other. “The last one. How did you reach from here”
– he nodded to the left – “all the way over there?” He wriggled the
fingers on his right hand.

She pretended to be as mystified as he was.

There was no way she could have hidden something in that
small room. The answer had to have been right in front of him. Of course! The
hooked metal bar that had been at her feet. He’d thought they’d used it on her,
but she’d used it to close the last shackle. Sweet Goddess of Mercy, she was
brilliant.

As if she knew he’d figured it out, she clapped politely.

He bowed. “For a moment there, I was afraid you’d lose
faith in me.”

“Never.”

It was such a simple word. If spoken in jest, it meant
nothing, but there was something so honest about the way she said it. Stripped
bare of tone and insinuation, it struck him as a promise. They didn’t talk like
that to each other.

This was too new and awkward. She turned away.

He couldn’t bear even the briefest silence. “How did you
dose the guards with black lotus? I didn’t smell it down there. The air was
musty, but not enough to cover the stink of it. Yet they all had dreamer’s
eyes.”

She seemed glad to return to the subject. “Blow pipe and
darts. Sometimes, the old ways are best.”

“Was it worth it? So much trouble–”

“And expense!” Comfortable with this subject, she leaned
forward. “You wouldn’t believe how much black lotus I went through today. Some
of those guards must be heavy users, because I had to dose them four and five
times to keep them quiet. They kept groaning.”

He didn’t trust this face of hers. She was playing a role,
pretending to be carefree, when she had to still feel that moment between them.
If only they could loop back a few seconds in time and she’d look at him the
way she had when she’d said ‘never.’ He should have made it last somehow.

“And all
of it for what? To make Colonel Hurust disappear?” he asked.

“Colonel
Hurust was behind the murders of my lieutenants. I’m sure you’ve figured that
out by now.”

“Lizzriat
danced around it.”

“Why would you – never mind. I won’t question your
methods. How is Liz?” she asked.

“Neutral.”

“You mean selectively helpful, I’m sure. He’s a crafty
one.”

Kyam sauntered away from her. “High praise coming from
you.” He ran his hand along the sliding door behind her throne. “Tell me about
Hurust. Why was he targeting your people?”

He tried to see what was behind the door, but the crack
was too slim, so he gave up and explored the rest of the room. From the faded
wood, it looked as if there had been a lot of furniture in there at one time.
It felt deserted, the way empty places did when people visited them, as if the
shadows in the corners absorbed light and sound, hoarding it to feed upon when
the people left again. No one lived here now, he was sure of it. It was simply
another stage on which for her to perform.

“The racial cleansing of the Quarter of Delights was a
nasty excuse to hide his targeted murders. His real aim was to take control of
the black lotus market. According to my sources, he was a smuggler back in Thampur.
He saw a chance to get back in the business when the militia executed the
werewolves,” she said. “All of which is irrelevant. He ordered his men to kill
my people. For that, he had to die.”

“But, the
Devil...”

“During
my inquiries, I learned his plan was to approach the Devil. He planned to push
me out.” That brought a wry smile to her lips.

“Inquiries?”

“One of
Colonel Hurust’s men was at the Dragon Pearl. Upstairs, you understand. He’d
gone there to discuss the possibility of supplying Lizzriat, and then decided
to take a pipe. Liz has been very careful lately not to anger me, so he sent a
messenger offering the soldier for questioning. Ponongese aren’t allowed in the
Dragon Pearl, as you know, so in order to interrogate him thoroughly, we had to
spirit him out of the place without being seen. Unfortunately, he slipped out
of our hold as we carried him to a hidden staircase. He fell face down onto
Lizzriat’s desk and broke his nose. Blood went everywhere.”

“The spatter on your jacket.” He didn’t know why he was so
relieved that blood had an innocent-enough explanation, when he knew she’d
murdered so many other people. Could it be Hurust disappeared because she
couldn’t stand for anyone to think she was stupid enough to leave a body behind
as evidence? Even now, he and she were the only two people who knew that Hurust
was dead. Back in the fortress, they merely thought he was missing, and no one
seemed too alarmed about it. Even Nashruu didn’t seem to suspect anything was
amiss.

“If you see a soldier with a broken nose and a bruise
across his chin, tell him he owes me a new jacket if those stains don’t come
out. But don’t bother asking him to confirm our conversation. He won’t remember
it.”

She could have been telling him about the weather for all
the interest she showed. That meant she was glossing over something she didn’t
care to talk about.

“How can you interrogate someone in dream?”

A chill ran down his back. QuiTai was cold and hard again.
She might have been a statue except for the growing tension running through her
body.

“I’ve always said you’re a dangerous man,” she finally
said.

“You’re one to talk. Will we ever find Hurust?”

“He’s in plain sight.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“He will not be seen by Thampurian eyes, even when they
look directly at him.”

“Another damn political lecture.”

“Oh no, Governor Zul. A harsh truth.”

~ ~ ~

“Let’s assume I’ll never figure out what you did, much
less how you did it. But I have questions.”

“I may have answers.”

“Explain the second sarong. You had on your usual one at
the harbor. By the time you were in my office, you had one on under your usual
green one, and you wore two blouses. Voorus claims he never left your side, but
you weren’t wearing the second one down at the harbor. So when did you add the second
layer?”

“I bought them in the marketplace and donned them before
we entered the government building. You can ask him.”

“I did. I wanted to hear it from you.”

“You don’t trust me?” She feigned innocence and batted her
eyelashes. “I am hurt, Governor Zul. Absolutely crushed.”

“Take me through it. What happened to Colonel Hurust?”

“Did you find PhaSun’s bloody clothes in her room at the
Red Happiness?” QuiTai asked.

Kyam gave her a stern look. “Yes. And she confessed when
we arrested her. But that’s not what we were talking about. The subject is
Colonel Hurust, QuiTai.”

“He must have suspected I was there for him, because he
wouldn’t come down to the dungeon despite all the trouble I went to arrange our
meeting.”